


Never Felt Like Any Blessing

by Moonsault



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Bodyswap, Consent Issues, Dark, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 08:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault
Summary: Tommaso Ciampa wakes up in Candice LeRae's body and decides to get some further revenge on Johnny Gargano by making him unfaithful without even realizing it.





	Never Felt Like Any Blessing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SapphoIsBurning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/gifts).



> Dear SapphoisBurning, I read your letter and "bodyswap," "darkfic," "Candice/Johnny," and "Johnny/Tommaso" jumped out at me and fused into this. If the premise is way darker than you'd like, please skip the fic, I won't take it personally at all!

_This will be my last confession_  
_“I love you” never felt like any blessing._  
 _\--Florence + the Machine, “Heavy in Your Arms”_

Tommaso Ciampa knew something was wrong the moment he woke up.

The most immediate thing was that the ache in his knee was totally gone. He lay in bed, startled at the lack of pain.

The second thing he noticed was that it wasn’t his bed.

The third thing he noticed was that it wasn’t his _knee._

He sat bolt upright in the bed, the bed that he _knew_ though he had never, ever been in it. This was Johnny and Candice’s bed.

In the dim glow from the nightlight, Candice LeRae looked back at him from the mirror.

When he lifted his hands in shock and amazement, the Candice in the mirror lifted hers too. Candice’s reflection clapped her hands to his chin as he did, and he felt only smooth skin there. No beard. There was blond hair spilling across his shoulders, and he was wearing pink plaid pajamas with cartoon characters on them, and--oh, that was definitely _not_ his own body, he realized with a weird dull shock.

He was in Candice’s body.

He’d heard about weird shit like this happening in the wrestling world, he thought through a stunned haze as he scrabbled out of the bed, but it had never happened to him. He stared around the room. It had been over a year since he’d seen it, over a year since-- Was it because he had spit on Johnny’s wedding ring in Chicago? Was there some kind of weird-ass sympathetic magic there?

Where was Candice now? In _his_ body? What the fuck would Candice do to his body if she found herself in it? A sudden horrific image of Candice grimly taking a hammer to her own knee in order to ruin his career sent horror lancing through him: she would absolutely do it, just to make him suffer. He had to get back to his own place, he had to stop her. He wrenched open a dresser drawer and was rummaging for clothes to throw on when another question came to him, one that made him stop and swallow hard.

Where was Johnny?

He wasn’t in their bedroom. Had Candice kicked the loser out after his failure in Chicago? Johnny-boy must be a mess. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, at Candice’s tousled hair and Lilo and Stitch pajamas, and a wickedly delightful idea started to come to him. His glee twisted Candice’s mouth in odd, sardonic ways. If she was going to have a chance to do whatever she wanted to _his_ body, why couldn’t he have some fun with hers?

He slipped from the bedroom and into the living room. “Johnny?” he called softly, trying to make his voice sound sweet and conciliatory. But there was no one on the couch. Frowning, he looked around the room. Then, feeling a strange reluctance, he went to the door of the guest bedroom where he had always stayed, the room that had been his until last year.

“Johnny?” The room was utterly bare, everything still stripped away except for a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. Huddled within them was Johnny Gargano, his eyes closed.

Tommaso felt hatred and fury twist inside him, making his heart--Candice’s borrowed heart--pound faster. _I beat you. You had me beat, but you came back to me, you walked away from the light and came to me, and I beat you. You’re pathetic._ He went to his knees on the floor next to Johnny and reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. He stared at the chipped powder-blue polish on the nails for a long moment, then whispered “Johnny,” and gave his shoulder a little shake.

Johnny’s eyes snapped open and he recoiled, his back coming up against the wall. For a second he stared at the person in front of him as if he could see the real soul inside, and Tommaso felt panic go through him. Then the fear and rage died away into ashes again. “Babe,” Johnny whispered. “Oh babe.”

“Johnny,” Tommaso whispered, and then didn’t know what to say. Johnny’s eyes looked so bleak. Tommaso had imagined that they’d become tender and gentle when he’d realized it was Candice, that he would gaze at Tommaso--at _Candice--_ with love. But instead he just looked miserable. “I’m here,” Tommaso finally managed to say in Candice’s voice. “Please. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“Yes I do,” said Johnny, cold and flat.

“No, you don’t,” Tommaso said. “Please. Let me be here for you. I swear I’ll always be here for you.” And he lay down on the floor next to Johnny and kissed his cheek and kissed his chin and then he kissed his mouth with Candice’s lips, kissed him again and again, feeling something awful jangling inside him like desperation as Johnny’s mouth stayed set and cold. “Please don’t do this, Johnny,” he whispered. He felt a sudden impulse to leap up and run away from this room, the room that had been his, where Johnny was lying now so still and unmoved. But he had to get his revenge somehow, right? He had to soil the one good thing Johnny had left in his life. All of it, all of it, marked with his dirty hands, all of it had to be his. So he ignored the part of himself that was making him shake all over and grabbed Johnny’s hand and put it to Candice’s breast. “Johnny. Please.”

Johnny’s hand tightened, his thumb going across the nipple roughly, and it felt--it felt really weird. Almost painful, but in a way that could make you want more. At least he’d finally gotten some reaction out of the loser, Tommaso gloated. He’d gotten him hooked now.

“I’m sorry I left like that,” Johnny said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Sh,” Tommaso said. “Just touch me. I love it when you touch me.” Johnny’s hands pulling him off the stretcher, his arms around him in the Gargano Escape. Pain and anguish and the certainty that Johnny would never leave him.

Johnny slipped a hand under the ridiculous pastel pajamas, his fingers roaming along Tommaso’s-- _Candice’s_ \--body. Tommaso froze under the demanding touch, then forced himself to relax. _You’re supposed to be enjoying this,_ he reminded himself. _Make some noise or something so he doesn’t suspect you don’t give a shit._

Johnny’s fingers tightened on his nipple, and Tommaso moaned in what he hoped sounded like rapturous delight. But something kind of started to go wrong in the middle of it, and it got really breathy and almost startled at the end. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, somehow. “Yes,” he said. “Do that again. Please do that again,” he said, and waited.

But Johnny didn’t do it again. Instead he slid his hands down to cup Tommaso’s ass, grabbing hard. That was a different kind of weird, but whatever was going wrong in Tommaso was continuing to go wrong, and he squirmed against Johnny’s hands, trying to clear his head. _Shit, are they into some kind of kinky roleplay or something? Should I beg him to punish me because I’ve been such a bad boy--_ Everything seemed to be melting down inside Tommaso, and it was hard to think. _\--I mean, bad girl?_ “Do what you want to,” he breathed. “Do what you want to me.”

“All right,” said Johnny. He seemed to be talking mostly to himself. “All right, then.” He slipped away from Tommaso and pulled his pajamas off, and Tommaso felt a bizarre thrill go through him: he’d gotten Johnny hard like that. Johnny was responding to _him._ He was the center of everything, he had every single part of Johnny now.

Johnny pulled Tommaso up to his knees and then turned his face toward the wall, pushing him onto his hands and knees: not roughly, but not gently, either. He pulled off Tommaso’s pajama bottoms and Tommaso stared at his chipped blue fingernails against the beige carpet and felt an awful and overwhelming want building in him. By the time Johnny pushed up against him, shoving inward, he was so wet that there was almost no friction at all and it took him a moment to realize that Johnny’s cock was actually inside him.

Johnny was inside him. Johnny was fucking him.

The unfamiliar body he was in shook all over with sensation and Tommaso felt his hands scrabbling at the carpet. It was so good, just a steady solid thump of impact, every thrust doing unspeakable things to his brain. _Wait, wait, I wasn’t supposed to-- This wasn’t supposed to--_ But it was no good, Candice’s body was responding with ecstasy and it was dragging him along with it to places he had never wanted to go, had never wanted-- Had always wanted--

So much tension, begging for release. So close. What would Candice say when she came, Tommaso wondered. Would she curse or scream or--

The first ripple of orgasm spread through his body, and he heard himself gasp “I love you.” And then he couldn’t stop, he just babbled it over and over and over as pleasure washed over him, leaving him limp as the long, slow thrusts continued. He could feel Johnny’s body tensing and tried to collect his scattered, shattered thoughts: this was it, this was the moment he’d know he’d besmirched his marriage, he’d stolen even this pleasure from his former friend, his nemesis.

Johnny stopped moving and went still, trembling slightly. And then he said a name.

He said it again and again.

It wasn’t Candice’s name.

Tommaso wrenched himself away, whirling, and cuffed Johnny hard across the face with Candice’s little hand, putting all of Candice’s wiry energy into it. “ _How dare you?_ ” he yelled, or tried to yell, but it was Candice’s voice, shattered and shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said. He looked gaunt and miserable. “I’m so sorry, babe.”

“How dare you?” Tommaso said again. “He doesn’t deserve you. That bastard doesn’t _deserve you._ ” It was what Candice would say, that’s why he was saying it.

Johnny reached out to try to touch Candice’s cheek, but Tommaso slapped his hand away.

“I love you,” Johnny said.

“He’s beaten you,” Tommaso said. His moment of ultimate triumph. “He’s beaten you completely and left nothing.” _I win._

He staggered to his feet and grabbed the pajama bottoms. Then he turned his back on Johnny and left him in the room that had once been his and never would be again.

Back in Candice’s room, he stared around at the flowered wallpaper, the Disney knickknacks. He could break them all, shatter the mirror with her reflection in it, leave everything broken and useless.

Instead he finally just crawled back into bed and lay there for a long time before falling asleep.

* * *

He woke up back in his own bed, the familiar ache in his knee back in place. The room was untouched—not that there was anything much to break, just the one picture of the three of them at Disney, taped to the wall. His body was intact. Maybe she never even woke up. He wondered if she’d notice that Johnny was even more withdrawn and silent, that his eyes were filled with guilt. He wondered if she’d feel the echo of pain and pleasure in the body Tommaso had used for his revenge.

He wondered if she would touch the pillow and be confused to find it wet with tears, as if she had cried herself inconsolably to sleep.


End file.
